Elbow Grease
by Lenarix Klinde
Summary: Jak finds Keira working on a car at two in the morning. She's wearing his jacket, her PJ shorts, and her slippers. Turns out he finds that a bit of a turn-on.  Jak/Keira, sexual content.


Jak opens his mouth and manages a "guh."

Keira straightens her back, twisting at the hips to look at him. Her shorts slip a little lower on her hips, showing pale skin and a little exhaust smear. If he breathes deep enough, he might inhale the scent of her sweat from back here. "Jak!" she says, and he almost starts squinting again when she grins, wide-eyed, and grabs a towel off the hood. "Sorry-I didn't mean to-well, I didn't want to wake you, anyway."

"I, uh," Jak says. One oversized sleeve slips down her arm to pool in her elbow, sweat droplets making their way down her forehead. "You're awake." Yeah. This had something to do with Keira being awake at this-this ungodly hour. Oh, right.

"Keira, it's two in the morning," Jak says.

"Exactly!" Keira turns back to the car, bending down beneath the hood again. "I woke up with an idea for a new racer. I _think_ I have the shape down and know a few of the parts I'll need." Keira disappears beneath the hood again, long ears poking out from the wires and tubes and engines. "I think one of them is in here. You don't mind if I look, right?"

Silence stretches like taffy between them. Jak opens his mouth again-and finds answers have deserted him.

It's two in the morning and they're in Keira's garage. Her voice chirps and flits about the room even as one of her hands comes up to tease at the zipper to her jacket. Wait, no. _His_ jacket. On her. Unzipped just enough that he can see shadows and curves, all the places that make his mouth water.

His jaw starts to slacken, and he hides it by pulling it tight, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "So, uh," Jak says. "The, um, the racer." _Don't look up_, he tells himself, _don't look up because those eyes will burn ice over your skin. And you'll have to sleep on the couch again. Fun times_. "What's it like?"

"Well," Keira says, and does she _have_ to cock her hips like that? Jak's eyes flick up when Keira places a finger over her mouth, "I've been looking over the footage from our time in Kras City, and I was thinking about the cage racer."

"Uh-huh."

"So, I was wondering what the best design was out of all of them, and then-"

He doesn't mean to let her voice fade into the background. He's not the fourteen, sixteen-year-old dork sneaking sideways glances and gawking at her silhouette behind cheesecloth. But.

But Keira's walking, her hands moving in wide swipes and waves. Her palms don't touch the steel frame, though they flick against a bolt, by accident. His jacket hides her wrists, comes up to her knuckles. It drapes over her knuckles, hiding coltish arms beneath deep folds.

If she bends over, it will _end_ him.

"...and then you-Jak?"

Jak blinks, and he swears he hears his eyes singing a heavenly chorus. "Buh. What?"

"...You haven't been listening to a single word I've been saying, have you?"

Shit.

"Um," he starts, clearing his throat and covering his mouth. "Well, ah, there's, there's that thing you were talking about and-"

"I'm up here, Jak."

Jak opens his mouth, and Keira takes the chance to tilt his head up. Her eyes meet his as Jak puts on his best I-love-you-baby-and-the-couch-sticks-when-I-sweat smile and prepares to work that baby like a Wasteland water pump.

Jak's face-cracking grin falters for a split-second.

Keira's furrowed brow doesn't have as many lines and creases as usual. Her pupils expand so that only a thin ring of dark green circles shines in the flickering, florescent light. And she's curving her back out so her chest presses in to Jak's, marshmallow soft and-

"Jak," Keira says, not a question. Her mouth turns up towards his, plump, bubblegum pink, hint of white teeth beneath. Jak tries to breathe, step back so she can't _feel_ him twitching.

Keira's tongue pokes out, coating her lips and making them shine.

"Oh _fuck_," Jak growls. Her shoulder blades, the small of her back-they were made for his hands. Her curves cradle his arms as he pulls her in and crushes their lips together, spit and skin and teeth and fuck, _fuck_ yes.

"You planned this," Jak snarls, nudging a knee beneath her legs. "You-stay _still_-you took my jacket-"

"-and slipped it on," Keira answers, voice chirping and smile too-wide as she takes one final step back. Cold steel flirts with the tips of Jak's fingers. "You like it?"

Jak's smile is a sneer, sleazy nights and strobe lights smeared across his mouth and wiped away. He clutches her closer and thrusts up, all roaring blood and eager flesh against hers. "What do you think, Keira?"

"I-ah," she says, faltering with a butterfly-light chuckle. She goes pink, chuckles more, and God, _God_ she's Sandover in his arms, green forests and lava rivers and the snow-capped passes in the mountains. "I think-I think you can't take your-_mmm_, your eyes off me," she finishes, a little breathless as Jak's thigh presses up and in, slow. He builds friction, starts the slow boil. "Am I right?"

"I think," Jak says, purrs as he nips beneath her earlobe, "I think I can watch you all night now."

"And I thought you were dead on your feet."

"And I think you need to open that door _right now_," Jak says, nipping her collarbone.

She opens her mouth, but he takes skin between his teeth and tugs. All her breath escapes her in a breathy sigh, down-soft and so _wonderful_ that Jak reaches down to cup her hand in hers and help her tug the latch.

The door clicks open; Keira shoves him away with one hand, chuckling. She's lucky Jak's entire body fills with bubbles, permitting his stumble backwards. Well. Maybe he's lucky, too, because she plops down on the leather seat, one hand curled above wayward hair strands. She grins, eyelids lowered and come-hither and _fuck_.

The drumbeats in Jak's pulse beat out all the bubbles, hot adrenaline rush and lust pinpricks in his bloodstream. Two steps and he sprawls on top of her, one hand grabbing the back of the seat as he dips his head and kisses her, more a collision of mouths than a soft, sensual lip massage.

He pulls back, catching his breath, and catches gasoline and burnt rubber in the air. And yeah, it makes Daxter lose his lunch and he'd go green at the thought of Jak getting even harder as Keira pulls them back together, stains his wifebeater, but-but. Um. There's something bad about that. Something...

Actually, fuck Daxter.

"-_mmm_," Keira says, and her champagne chuckles tingle against Jak's lips as they part, a thin rope of saliva between them. "I don't even wanna know what's going on in that head of yours."

"How 'bout I show you instead?" Jak says back, his voice all rumbling thunder. He stalks her across the seat divider, arching over the stick shift. His fingertips graze her inner thigh-

She takes her time to strike, leaning up into Jak's face with jackrabbit swiftness and half-lidded eyes. Jak yelps, leans back as-ah, she's got him now, all skinny legs pinning his hips into place, his head back against the headrest as she pins her hands on either side of his neck. "I think they involve me," Keira says, one for one, not too shabby. "I think they involve me getting down on my knees in the leg space," she smears her tongue over his jaw, "and handling your stick shift."

Silence. Jak's head falls forward onto Keira's shoulder.

"...Jak?"

A snort sneaks through his nostrils, onto the curve of her breast, and that's the crack that breaks the damn. Keira smacks his shoulder as giggles stampede from his throat and into the air above.

"Y-you-stop laughing! Jak!" Jak peels an eye open to find Keira glaring at his chest, her cheeks pink and growing darker. "It's not funny," she says through her pout, voice thick and breaking. Her leg shifts against his left side, her hands bracing themselves on the seat-

Jak grabs her left hand before she can swing up and off. Her angry squawk turns to a gasp when Jak presses her palm onto his pants and the twitching, heated bulge beneath. "I don't mind, Keira," Jak purrs, leaning forward. His forehead touches hers, slides down so that he's looking up into her eyes. "You can call it whatever you want, so long as you prove you can handle it."

Keira's eyes widen, a soft "oh" slipping from her throat when Jak's hand guides her fingertips to his fly. And _there_ she is, _that's_ the Keira who refused to stay in the garage like a good little girl. "Well," she says, pushing Jak back until his head meets the back of the seat, "I think I can do that."

She doesn't slip into the leg space-Jak doesn't let her, of course. But her hands, hot and grease-slicked and thin with wiry muscle, take over. They coax a deep sigh from Jak, and he sits back and just watches her _work_ on him.

"Never realized-ah-how good you were with tools," Jak murmurs, not taking his eyes off her hands-beautiful, _filthy_ hands that are starting to slow, almost drawing a whine from him. Almost.

"Really, Jak? More bad puns?"

"You got a problem with that?" Jak asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"...I can't believe this." Keira lifts her leg, slipping off Jak's lap as she stands and kicks off her pants. "I can_not_ believe this."

Jak cocks an eyebrow. "...What, about the puns?"

"About how they're turning me on." Curl of her fingers, kick of her legs, and-oh. Oh.

Jak's tongue sneaks out from his mouth and wets his lips. His hands, racer-quick, flash out to grab Keira's wrists as her fingers move to Jak's zipper. "Leave it on," Jak says, and for a moment he sees his own reflection in Keira's eyes, prompting him to soften his eyes and grip. "It's, um. Cold down here." _I like it_, Jak's body thinks, _I like you in my jacket, on my lap, standing in Haven Forest and watching the stars._

Keira crooks an eyebrow, looking into Jak's lap. "Lil' Jak doesn't seem to think so," she purrs. Or giggles. Her voice breaks up and her smirk threatens to turn sultry to snickering.

Jak's indignation vanishes when Keira slides onto his waist, easy and loose and warm. "It's okay," she whispers, leaning down to tease Jak's mouth with butterfly brushes. "I won't tell anyone your secret."

And as he opens his mouth, Keira slides down onto him, wet and full and _warm_, and Jak's head rolls back. His words thicken, clogging his throat and mouth, lost in a choked groan and Keira's echoing sigh. She goes still for a moment, and they just _breathe_, garage breezes playing along their sweatdrops.

"Ah," Jak breathes, when his throat and mouth clear. "Um."

Keira breathes, maybe a chuckle, and Jak watches through half-lidded eyes as one hand brushes her hair behind one long ear. "Wow," she says, and her voice still sounds of breezes through grass, unanchored and fluid. "The-dashboard's digging into my back."

Jak cups her closer before she even finishes her sentence. "There. Better?"

"Mmmm."

She moves in his arms, slick and sliding, no friction at all. Jak kisses her, and when Keira slides her tongue into his mouth, he welcomes it, twines it with his own. He watches her as long as he can through his eyelashes, feeling energy rise up, up, and then he has to close his eyes, for fear his body would catch flame.

"Jak," Keira whispers, so all supple muscle and feral, purring voice. "_Jak_-"

He presses his finger to his mouth to silence her. Her only response is to shoot him a dirty glare and suck his finger, drawing a groan as they gyrate and cling to one another. Jak thinks of tires against asphalt, his blood filling with racing's rush, higher, higher-

_There_.

Jak blinks awake, glances down long enough to see Keira finishing herself off with her hand, and oh _fuck_ she feels nice, the way she _squeezes_ around him. And then she taps her forehead to his, breathing close, quiet, and soft. Jak cradles her hips with his palms.

Keira breaks the silence first, snorting a puff of air over Jak's lips. "I need to wear your jacket more often," she breathes, and Jak's chuckle purrs through the dark.

"Well," Jak murmurs in response, "you better watch your back, then. I might just sneak up on you."

"Well, now. Are you hinting at a way to get you away from Daxter?"

"Keira, Daxter could be hiding under the car, ready to spring a prank on us, and I would give about half a damn if it meant being closer to you."

Keira's smile skews sideways, bowing her head as snorts chop her breath into pieces. "Is that what we're going to call sex when my dad's around?"

Jak shuts her up with a kiss.


End file.
